


An Irish New Year

by tender_is_the_ghost



Series: Connor and Tracy [2]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), Connor MacManus - Fandom, Sean Patrick Flanery - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Love, New Year's Eve, POV Second Person, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1286224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tender_is_the_ghost/pseuds/tender_is_the_ghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor is missing his brother so Tracy tries to distract him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Irish New Year

 

The tiny bar is crowded and you feel like you haven’t caught your breath once all night but everyone is in an exuberantly happy mood and being extra generous with tips so the time is actually flying by. Thinking of the time, you glance to the end of the heaving bar, where Connor is sitting in his usual seat, nursing a pint and looking miserably at his watch for the hundredth time that night. You sigh to yourself, finish serving the customer you’re waiting on and slip away to his end of the bar before anyone else can grab your attention. Connor looks up as you approach, a smile pushing away his frown as you lean over to plant a kiss on his lips.

“He’ll be here,” you say, squeezing his hand. “It’s still 2 hours til midnight, he has plenty of time. He left your ma’s hours ago.”

“Aye, I know but he’s not answering his phone. He’s probably lost.”

“More likely that he’s lost his phone,” you reply with a chuckle.

“And this is why I don’t let the little shit do stuff by himself.”

“Well, I told ya to go with him.”

“What, and miss my first New Year with you, Tracy-love, I don’t think so.” He leans over the bar to kiss you again among a series of catcalls and whistles from the other patrons.

“I have to go,” you say, blushing a little, ”but stop worrying.”

You head back along the bar to pacify your waiting customers wondering how much longer Susan, the other barmaid, has left on her break. The bar is pretty much full and, while you’re coping fine by yourself, an extra pair of hands would be welcome. You slam the till drawer shut on another transaction and move to greet the next person waiting, taking a second while you fill their order to think back on how very different your life was last New Year’s Eve. Your eyes flick to where your Da is sitting alongside Connor’s, their small knot of friends hanging on their every word and you shake your head.

This time last year you were sat in that same corner, bored, and trying desperately to blend into the wall come midnight lest some inebriated local lad had decided to kiss you. How things have changed, you think, glancing back at Connor once more. Now you’re not even sure you can wait until midnight to kiss your gorgeous man. Since he blew into your life in the spring, things have certainly been different. You’d resigned yourself to living your life quietly on your Da’s farm, keeping pretty much hidden away from the world. And then the MacManus brothers arrived and now you feel like you’ve had a new life handed to you.

You always vowed that you’d never change yourself to suit another man, that lesson was harshly learned, but in your heart you know you’re a different person than you were a year ago and you know the reason lies with Connor. But no part of you feels as though you changed for him, you know that you’ve changed because of him, having him in your life and in your bed has given you a new outlook on what was becoming a very dreary life. A year ago you would never have had the confidence to work behind the bar here, even if it is only a couple of nights a week, but having Connor around seems to have re-awakened a self-assuredness and a sexuality that you thought had been stolen from you along with your dignity.

Looking at him now, in a lull between customers, you know he’s not a perfect man, he has his flaws as much as you do and that you sometimes fight as passionately as you make up but, for you, he is perfect. His head turns from contemplating his beer, eyes finding yours as if he knew you were watching him, and he gives you a puzzled look, mouthing “What?” at you from across the noisy bar. Your eyes greedily devour his features, his blue eyes standing out against his tanned skin that still hasn’t faded from summer. He cocks an eyebrow at you and you know right then that you can’t wait until midnight to kiss him and you certainly can’t wait until you get him home to have his hands on you.

Susan is back from her break and the crowd seems content for a moment, the calm before the storm of the last hour until midnight, so you tell her you’re going to take your break and have Connor help you bring up another barrel from the cellar. You open the door to the back room and beckon him to follow you. He slips behind the bar and through the door you’re holding open for him. The air in the corridor leading to the kitchen and the cellar is blessedly cooler than the bar and, with the door closed behind you, the noise is muffled to a dull hum. You flick on the cellar light and start carefully down the stairs, Connor right behind you, used to helping you with the heavy lifting.

The cellar is low-ceilinged and lined with the same rough-hewn rocks that make up most of the buildings in the area. The air is cool and musty but it’s surprisingly dry and when you flick on the overhead light, the place fills with a warm glow. Connor’s boots scuff on the concrete floor as he steps down from the stairs and looks around.

“So, what do ya need help with, love?” he asks.

“This,” you reply and, as he turns in your direction, you press in against his body, making him jump slightly as you bunch his shirt-front in your fists and pull him down to you to tease at his lips with yours. His surprise stops him responding for a second and then he’s kissing you back, arms circling your waist while his tongue teases yours back. You kiss him lightly, pulling at his lip with your teeth and then deepening the kiss as your hand slides down between you to press against the front of his jeans, palming his cock through the worn material. He gives a grunt and breaks your kiss, looking down at you.

“What’s going on?” he asks, a half-smile on his lips.

“I thought maybe you could use a little distraction, help pass the time,” you reply, squeezing his length and nipping at his collarbone with your teeth. He leans into you momentarily, breath hitching in his chest and his hands tightening on your waist.

“Tracy-love, while I appreciate the thought,” he says in a low voice, “you don’t have to do this, especially not here. This isn’t you.”

You inwardly scream with frustration and step back from him to hold him at arm’s length.

“Connor, do ya love me?”

“Aye, of course I do, ya know that, darlin’.”

“I hope ya know that I love you too and that one of the things that I love most about you is the way you make me feel respected and safe without ever making me feel like you’re smothering me. And while I have no complaints, and I mean absolutely none, about the physical side of our relationship, sometimes, just sometimes, I wish you would forget that you’re a gentleman. Sometimes, I’d like for you to throw me into the hay in the barn and just pound me right there, or let me straddle you in the back of your van and ride you until the whole thing rocks, or bring me down to the bar cellar and shove me against the wall and just fuck me hard. It wouldn’t show me that you respected me any less, just that you wanted me even more.”

Connor is quiet, his eyes locked on yours and you know he’s absorbing your words.

“Sometimes, Connor,” you say, stepping back from him and reaching up under your skirt to wriggle your way out of your panties and slide them down to your ankles, bending to step out of them and hold them up to him on one finger, “sometimes, I just need you to treat me like a whore.”

Connor licks his lips and you can see the need to show his respect for you warring with the lust that’s growing in his eyes. You swing your panties from your finger in front of him, giving him your best pout. He reaches out to grab your panties, balling them in his fist as he takes you by your hand and pulls you into the shadowed recess under the stairs where he turns you and pushes you against the cold, stone wall, making you gasp. Your panties disappear into the pocket of his jeans as he tugs at the collar of your blouse, pulling it from your skin so he can suck at the base of your throat. His body presses hard into yours, pinning you against the wall, one hand tight at your waist while you fist at his shirtfront.

He kisses and licks his way up your neck, body banging against yours, until his lips are a mere fraction from yours and then he stops, hot breath rasping out against your lips, the heat of his body against yours sending uncontrollable shivers through you.

“Is this what ya want, my sweet whore, ya want me to take ya like an animal down here in the dirt?”

“Yes, Connor,” you practically moan, lips straining to taste his.

He hesitates a minute longer, trapping your body with his, eyes burning into yours and then he dips his head a fraction and his lips mash against yours, his tongue forcing its way inside your mouth. You moan hard under his touch, your hand leaving his shirt to reach for cock again, rubbing him roughly through the denim until he pulls off from kissing you with a low growl. His hands wrench at your blouse, fingers quickly undoing your buttons and reaching inside to push his hand into the cup of your bra to fondle your breast, thumb poking at your nipple. Your hands go to his head as he bends to take it between his lips, his stubble scratching at your soft skin, as he sucks it hard, pulling it between his teeth and then licking it before repeating the move. His mouth works down, teeth nipping at the underside of your breast and then his lips are ghosting over your abdomen, his hands travelling down to find the bottom of your pencil skirt and pushing it up to your hips, exposing you to him.

Your whole body aches with wanting him, little shivers of excitement running through you, the added danger of possibly being discovered adding a whole new dimension to your arousal. Connor kisses his way back up your body, capturing your lips once more, in a heady, desperate kiss, his hands seemingly all over your body at once.

“Tell me what you want, darlin’,” he breathes against your lips.

“I want you to fuck me like the whore I am,” you reply as his teeth scrape your collarbone.

“Are you wet for me, lass?” he asks, planting a trail of kisses along your shoulder.

“Yes,” you moan back, pulling his body in hard against you and grinding against him.

“Well, maybe I better just see for myself,” he states and before you know it, he’s dropped to his knees in front of you and is edging your feet apart. Your whole body jolts with the first swipe of his tongue against your pussy and you curse hard, feeling him chuckle against you as one of his strong hands slides to the back of your thigh and he lifts your leg so it’s crooked over his shoulder. One of your hands grabs at the underside of the stairs for balance while the other wraps in his dirty blond hair he starts fucking you with his tongue. He plunges it in, wiggling inside you as far as he can, before licking his way up to suck at your clit, grazing it slightly with his teeth and then setting up a fast pace of licks which has you panting above him. He knows your weaknesses, knows how to tease you for hours without making you come or how to have you exploding within minutes and having his perfect mouth eating your pussy is guaranteed to have you coming in no time at all.

You’re murmuring his name, telling him not to stop, your eyes closed until the only thing that exists is his tongue on your clit and you can feel him humming against you, pushing you to come and it’s not long until you do, body pulsing against him as he teases every last shudder from you. He releases your thigh from his shoulder, standing back up to steady you against him, kissing you hard again, letting you taste yourself from his tongue. With your body still throbbing, he wastes no time in undoing his pants and pushing them down, picking you up and wrapping your legs around him as he slams you into the wall. One hand dives between you and he guides himself into your slick entrance until he’s balls deep and you’re clutching at his shoulders as he starts hammering into you, deep grunts emanating from him each time he hits home.

You’re so wet, you wrap your legs tighter around him, not wanting him to slide free in his frenzied pumping. You tighten around him, feeling his ridges bumping against your walls as he pushes hard into you. He growls, pace quickening as you squeeze harder, his fingers digging into your ass-cheeks, his face buried in the crook of your neck until he gives a muffled yell and then he’s letting go, cock straining as he shoots his load into you, pushing and pushing until he’s done. You cling tight to him, stroking his hair and the back of his neck. With a slight intake of breath you feel him slip from you and you’re immediately craving him again, your body responding to the loss of him inside you.

He’s just lowering you back to the floor when you hear footsteps on the stairs above and Susan’s voice calling down to you.

“Tracy, are you still down here? Murphy’s here, he’s looking for Connor.”

Connor’s hand clamps across your mouth, not that you would have dreamed of replying to her and he keeps it there until you hear her retreat back towards the bar. He grins down at you, releasing you then tucking himself back into his jeans and zipping them up as you button your blouse and lower your skirt. Pulling you to him, he kisses you, softer than before, wrapping you in his arms for a long moment, then stepping back again and glancing at the stairs.

“Go on with ya,” you say, smiling at his eagerness to be re-united with his brother, even if he has only been gone a few days. “Tell Susan I’ll be there in a minute.”

He gives you another quick kiss on the lips before bounding for the stairs.

“Connor, wait!”

He stops halfway up, turning to look back at you.

“My panties,” you say, holding out your hand.

He smiles, pulling them from his pocket and then stops, shoving them back in.

“Whores don’t get to wear panties,” he says with a mischievous grin and turns to race up the stairs before you can get another word out.


End file.
